One Hundred and Ten Years Apart
by X-Scree Scree-X
Summary: Originally SPOT CONLON: 1882 TO 2009? / Spot and Delia; one was an egotistical leader from 1899 while the other was a headstrong twin from 2009. Somehow their paths cross in present day Fresno, CA, where a slew of unfortunate events take part.
1. Pick Pocket

**Well here it is guys, the rewritten story, originally Spot Conlon: 1882 to 2009?**

**Just for your info, if you go to chapter two right after I get this chapter up, it's going to be completely different. **

**It'll be crappy and in third person.**

**So yeah!**

**Enjoy, my good readers!!!**

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**One Hundred and Ten Years Apart**

**(Originally Spot Conlon: 1882 to 2009?)**

**Chapter One;; Pick Pocket**

**Monday, June 29th, 1899**

I guess you could say I had everything I could ever want: a roof over my head, the whole of Brooklyn at my finger tips, somewhat good food... I was sixteen year old Spot Conlon, and leader of the Brooklyn newsies. I'd been leader for a while now; since I was twelve actually. There wasn't much to say on the matter of my "ruling", other than everybody knew Brooklyn, and Brooklyn knew everybody. That was my nickname. You never talked about Brooklyn without talking about me. I took over for the old leader after he left. He and I had been great pals, and he had taught me everything I knew today, and even more. I ruled and everyone who didn't know it found out soon enough.

Take the Walking Mouth, for example. Didn't know who I was because he wasn't a newsie, and then the first thing he does once he meets up with Jacky-boy? Comes to see me.

Brooklyn was power. Brooklyn was strength. We knew how to fight dirty and sweet talk the ladies.

Brooklyn was my only family I really had. My mother had died shortly after I left to become a newsie at age eight, leaving my kid brother to me. I had to raise Charles, and he turned out all right. He acted a lot like myself, but I wasn't that surprised. I had a dad, but he walked out on my mother, brother and me right after Charles had been born, the prick. Guess I should have expected it. Damn, and I could even see myself ending up like him. Getting married, having a couple of kids... and then leaving the dame like she was dirt. Not that I wanted to... but I saw it in my near future.

"Common kid." I called over my shoulder, the stormy blue eyes, searching the crowd for the shrimp.

The young kid poked his head out from behind a guy he had gotten stuck behind before he pushed passed him and raced to my side, his light gray hat falling from his curly brown hair. He quickly picked it back up, stuffing it back on his head and racing to my side, his brown eyes wide as he stared up at me.

"Would ya hurry it up, kid? Or do ya want me ta leave ya behind foah da bulls ta pick up?" I growled to him, pulling him out of the way of some racing pedestrians.

"Wheah's ya takin' me, mistah?" The short kid asked, looking up at me with nervous eyes. Good. He wasn't some goofy kid who trusted every street rat who seemed nice.

"Wheah's I takin' ya? I'se is savin' yoah ass, so shut ya trap an' I'wl tewl ya evryting in a sec." I told him, putting a rough hand on his back and pushing him in front of myself so I could keep a better eye on him. Man this kid was shrimp. But who am I to judge? I was short for my age... still am, but that doesn't matter.

I wore usually clothing for a newsboy; dark brown pants, red suspenders, light button up with odd colors... But at my side was my cane, my neck a key necklace, and in my pocket rested my sling shot.

All three things had a value to me: first the cane. My father, Liam Keegan Conlon, had given it to me when I was just a kid, telling me that it would always come in handy, but since he left mom and us behind, I had planned on beating him to death with it. Second was my necklace. Mom had given it to me when I started to work as a newsie, and she told me that I was always welcome. And my sling shot? It was lucky as hell. I hit usually nine out of ten, if not the full ten. Chase, the leader before my had helped me make it when I joined, and I never let it leave my side.

But getting the kid away from the bulls, I had lost my last hat. Great. The kid would get a good soaking for being so foolish as to get caught.I'd seen him pocketing a gent's wallet, and wondered if he belonged to a borough, because he was pretty good, when the cop spotted him. And being the kind hearted person I was, I helped him get away. He'd be put to good use when taught well.

When I started to see the salty river me and my boys lived by, I told the kid what I was going to do. He asked, after all, so I'd give him an answer.

"Listen ta me kid. I saws youse tryin' ta steal dat gent's wallet, an' ya woulda gotten aways wit it if dat bull hadn't been 'round. Now I sees a good potential in youse kid, and dat's sayin' a lot fr'm me; so how'd ya like ta join me an' me newsies?" I asked him, giving him one of my infamous smirks with a quirk or my eyebrow.

"Join youse and yoah newsies?" The kid asked, stopped momentarily by what I had asked him, "But dat must mean yoah Spot Conlon!"

Good, he knew about me. That would make things go lots faster. But then again, who in New York hadn't heard of me?

"In me own flesh n' blood, but gets a move on; dat bull might still bes hangin' about." I said, pushing the small boy in front of me onto the beginning of the dock. No, not just a dock, _my _dock. Don't believe me? Check any one of the wooden boards on this one dock and you'll find the word 'BROOKLYN' carved into each and every one of them. No it wasn't my name, but- Nope, wrong again. Brooklyn _was_ my name. You couldn't speak about Brooklyn without thinking about me. That's just the way it was.

"Ah coise mistah Conlon!" The kid said, a wide grin painted across his young face; he couldn't have been any older then eight, but he was sure classy.

"Dat's Spot ta youse, kid. Now do ya have a name?" I asked him, walking down the wooden planks that made my dock, my boots tapping against the old weathered boards. The docks were empty about now: too dark to go swimming and hang out, but too light for it to really be called night time. All my boys were already at the lodging house we all called home, either playing poker or drinking before bed.

"I'se do't haff a name, Spot. I'se nevah hads anyboidys ta cawl me a name." The eight year old sighed, turning her head from me to look down into the murky waters below us.

Poor kid, being left on the street as such a young age without a mother or father to teach him how to live. At least I had a mother... but no getting soft, Spot. He'll live.

"Then wese'll call ya Pick Pocket, foah yoah amazin' woik back dere." I told him, coming up with the name right on the spot. I was good at that.

"Ah coise mistah! I mean… Ah coise Spot!" Pick Pocket said, his eyes widened in disbelief. He just got named by a newsie lord. I'd be impressed if I named myself as well.

"Gets a move on kid. Get in da howse an' find a bunk ta sleep in. An' if dere ain't any open, shaeh a bed wit da kid dey cawls Mouse. He's small an' youse is bound ta fit on a bed wit him." I told him, pushing him back towards the beginning of the dock, making him stumble a few steps before he regained his footing.

Pick Pocket raced off inside to meet the crew while I stayed out to watch the water beneath me.

I walked lightly over to one of the edges of the dock, watching the orange sun in the blueish green water that swam beneath me. It had become a tradition of mine to come to the water and watch the sun set when I was troubled, and right now, I was troubled. I was thinking about _her _again, and I shouldn't be. She haunted my dreams every night, but she was long gone; never to be seen again. Then another thought rushed over my as my feet dangled from the edge of my dock, my cold eyes staring down at my reflection.

"I'se is da most hated poisen in Brooklyn…" I whispered to myself, glaring down at my own glare. And it was true. Sure I'd been nice with the kid, Pick Pocket, but I soaked anyone who decided they didn't want to listen to me. I banged any girl I wanted to and got my way, without any hassle. because people hated me. _Feared _me.

I gritted my teeth before hissing, "But wut do it mattah? I do't caeh if dey hate me, I caeh is dey feah me..." I lied to myself, and sometimes it worked, but now... it seemed useless.

"Wut wus dat, boss?" A voice asked from behind me. I didn't need to turn around to know who it was, so I didn't. I just continued to glare down at myself.

They boy, uhm... young man that stood behind me had medium longish golden hair and crystal blue eyes. Spot and than man behind him had been friends forever; ever since eight year old Spot found him shivering on the bank of the river that they now stood over. That's how he hadn't gotten his name; Shivah.

"Wut do youse want, Shivah?" I asked sourly, watching the setting sun longingly. The sun didn't have to do anything but rise and set. What an easy life that'd be.

"I'se jus' wanted ta tewl ya sumtin, Spot." Shivah said softly, coming to do sit as my side on the edge of the dock.

"Oh? An' wut may dat be?" I didn't have to ask; I knew what was coming, but I might as well let him speak.

"I jus' wanna say dat I'se is sorry, and dat I'wl miss ya guys; youse been my family foah 'bout nine yeahs now, and I'se owe ya so much... I'se would stay, I mean I still gots a few good yeahs in me till I gotta woik at a fac'try, but... Alice needs me, Spot, an' her pa won't lemme mary her 'til I gets a job. A real one. Youse can undahstand dat, right? Youse can undahstand why I'se is doin' dis?" Shivah asked earnestly, almost begging me.

True, I did know what it meant to sacrifice for the ones you loved; the best act of it had taken place in front of me only a few months ago. It was so fresh in my heart, it hurt. It hurt that someone would actually want to die for me... and she did. She died for me _and _because of me, and now that she was gone... I had no where to turn. I felt so empty inside. It started with a little game I always played. Like I said, I could get whatever girl I wanted. But not her; no, never Miss Lonely. She didn't feel the need to have love in the form of a boy friend. She knew the pain of loosing people she loved, and didn't want it to happen again. So, after three failed attempts by Jack, Race and Kid Blink, I went in for the kill. Of course, she didn't take my crap, and I didn't expect her to, but after saving her from some goons on the streets, we started to get to know each other. One thing led to another, and before I knew it, she loved me, and I loved her. I don't think I've ever loved someone as much as I loved her. Sure, there was that love for the body when you had a one night stand, and maybe a love for the way someone acted, but the love for the whole person couldn't compare to either. And she had been so sure about everything; it was like she could see the future. "You'll be the death of me, Spot Conlon." She had told me once... and it ended up being true. Some leader from another borough had something against me, and to get to he, he got her. Shot her to death as well. Of course, he didn't know they were related.

Shivah didn't know why I was so tough on him. Of course he knew the story of Lonely... but, he was so convinced that Alice would always be there. Boy was he in for a rude awakening.

"No, Shivah; I can't undahstand youse. Youse of all people should know dat!" I answered him, turning my head to look him straight in the eyes.

"But Spot... youse gotta." Shivah argued, running his hand through his hair.

"No, Shivah, _youse _gotta undahstand!" I snarled, my eyes turning icy cold, "Yoah leavin' yoah only family, yoah _bruddahs _foah some skinny liddle _goil_!"

Shivah opened his mouth as if to argue back, but closed it with a snap, his jaw hardening in defiance.

"Fine. If dats wut youse want, den fine." Shivah said without one ounce of emotion in his voice, "Youse mean nuttin' to me; youse owr yoah newsies. An' I ain't Shivah, no moah; youse, Spot, can cawl me mistah William."

And with that, Mr. Shane William stood up and left his family behind to make his own living.

I watched him go with one of my glares before I, too, stood up and made my way over to our warehouse quickly, slamming the door as I entered, and then marching up the stairs, each making a loud thud.

By the time I reached the door that lead to the room where my boys slept, they had all fallen silent, hearing me coming in. I opened the door, and all eyes went on me.

The room was simple; a rectangular wooden room with bunk beds lined up against the walls with clothing and apparel spread about the floor.

Walking slowly down the middle of the bunk beds, all eyes stared carefully, evenly at me. They wanted to know what was going to happen now.

Shivah had been my second in command, and that now meant tat position was up for grabs. Everyone wanted it.

"Shivah, owr, as he now cawls hisself, _mistah William_." I sneered, my eyes darting back and forth between the boys, and our one girl, "Has decided dat a goil, no 'fence Peppah, is moah impo'tant den us, his bruddahs, so he is no longah a membar ah da Brooklyn Newsies, ya heah?"

"Eye." They all called, none of them blinking.

"An' I'se'll pick a second in a couple a nights; I need time ta t'ink. G'night boys." I turned and left the room to go to my own, private one.

Everyone told me it was more honorable to sleep in the same room with my boys, but there just wasn't enough room.

After shutting the door behind myself, I sat down on my small bed, my elbows on my knees and my face in my hands. No, I wouldn't cry. I would never cry. Crying meant defeat, and defeat just wasn't an option for me. I might have cried once, but never again. So without even bothering to change, I laid down on my bed and fell into an uncomfortable and light sleep.

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**Better?? I think it is. **

**In first person, anyway. It's the same info, with a little extra, then last time... so review!!**

**I love you all my awesometastical reviewers!!**

**Much love always**

**~Scree  
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	2. Hurt Memories in Hattan

**Meep...Oh darn... I just remembered that the Strike happened in July -_- Perfect. Well, I'm too lazy to change the whole story... so pretend that the strike had been earlier in the summer!**

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**One Hundred and Ten Years Apart**

**Chapter Two;; Poker with Hattan  
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**Tuesday, June 30th, 1899**

I didn't get a good nights sleep. I rarely did, but still... every noise, every creak of a board woke me up. So after the billionth time I'd woken up from my restless sleep (not an exaggeration), I got up and put my cloths on and left the little warmth that my bed held behind me and walked down the stairs and out into the cold air, making my way toward the dock.

I didn't mind the cold, or the dark. Some even said it matched my personality perfectly. Even if it was bright and sunny, New York was still cold and ruthless. There was always trouble through out the streets. Robberies, beatings, rape, kid napping... it was all the same. It was something we newsboys heard about often enough. Too often. But nobody ever tried to stop them. Even the cops were lazy enough and instead, made our lives harder. Scratch what I said earlier, there was someone who tried to fight back. Jack Kelly.

He helped all of us newsboys when Pulitzer raised the stupid prices up. He had fought Pulitzer, and now we were able to sell back any papers we were unable to sell. Most of my boys thought it was better than before, and I suppose it is, but I could have cared less about the price.

That had been a month or so before today, and life had returned to the normal flow of things; get up, work, poker, sleep, repeat. I was starting to get exhausted with the never ending circle. We all were, but what could we do? Where would we go? What other jobs allowed kids like us to survive without a family? Exactly; nothing. I wasn't going to go work in a factory. Nope, not while I was boss here.

I was shaken out of my thoughts as I heard the soft tread of feet coming out of a building. I hadn't noticed, but the sun had started to peak over the horizon. It was time to work. Time to continue with that never ending circle...

Looking over my shoulder from where I sat on my thrown of crates, I saw my boys walk out of the warehouse we lived in, all half asleep and yawning. Now who had gotten them up while I was out here?

Jumping from my thrown, I made my way down my dock toward the boys that stood on land, my cane knocking the side of my leg and my sling shot bouncing in my pocket.

"Alrigh', bois. Whose ready ya sell sum papes?" I asked them once I had made it within speaking distance.

After they all gave a murmur or yawn in response, I turned and led the way to the Distribution Center.

I sold alone most of they time; it got rid of the competition. Most all of my boys did, but then there were the few that sold together. Most of them were siblings.

Hearing a few footsteps speed up, I looked over my shoulder to see five of my boys, including the new kid, Pick Pocket, catch up with me.

"Morning bois. How'd youse all sleep?" I asked lazily, walking down an abandoned street.

"Slept poifectly foine, Spot." One of the tallest boys spoke; he had a long, crooked nose and bushy brown hair that almost came over his deep green eyes. He pulled his lips back in a half smile, revealing unusually sharp teeth. Shark, or as the others called him sometimes, Fangy. Wasn't much of a secret where he got his name.

"Shuah ya did, Sharky." Another tall boy, who resembled Shark, snorted, "Snored right in me ear, he did."

"Oh buck off, Brick!" A shorter, younger kid with an enormous amount of freckles and a mop of curly orange hair put in, looking up at the brothers, "S'not like youse sleep like an angel, what wit awl dat moanin' of yoahs! 'Come back, baby! I wo't hurt youse!'"

Brick's ice blue eyes flashed down to the kid as they narrowed, "Ain't yoah fight now, is it Strawberry?"

Brick had been the genius who came up with Blazes' new nick name. Only he used it, and it sure did piss Blaze off.

"Hey, now fellas. 'Nough wit dah fightin'!" A very short kid threw at the others, his mousy hair falling over his steely gray eyes.

"Nevah happenin', Mouse. Dese guys heah will even be arguin' in dere graves." I chuckled, continuing on as I listened to their conversations.

Glancing over my shoulder, I watched as Pick Pocket stood behind the others, staring up at them with big eyes.

Reaching over to him, I pulled him forward to walk in front of me.

"Surely youse met dese wonderful gentlemen?" I inquired, as I left my hands on the kids' shoulders.

"Only Mouse..." Pocket muttered, blushing like he was a girl as he looked down at the ground.

"Only Mouse, huh? Well do't be shy. Dis is Shark an' 'is bruddah Brick, and da red head's Blaze." I said, pointing each one out, "Guys, dis is de new kid, Pick Pocket."

They all exchanged greetings' before we made it to the Distribution Center. We all got our papers before Brick and Shark went off to sell, as well as Blaze. Pocket went off with Mouse, who was going to teach him how to pick pocket the right way, while I went off to my angle.

I'd had my angle since I joined Brooklyn as an eight year old; it was right by my bridge that led over to Manhattan. I had regulars that would usually come at the exact time every day.

Standing at the corner, I held the paper over my head, calling out a headline, "Scandalous Girl Falls Out of Window", and looked around for the usual.

"Dog lady..." I mumbled under my breath as an elegantly dressed lady made her way over to me with some type of dog on a leash. She payed and I handed her the paper. The dog growled, and shot forward. Stepping back, the dog stopped on account of the leash, growling up at me.

"Not taday, bitch." I smirked. Countless times that stupid dog had bit me.

"Cute nine yeah owld goil who lives bahind me." I muttered as a young girl patted me on the shoulder. Turning around I gave her a paper as she handed me a penny before I turned back around.

"Racetrack Higgins-" I paused. That was different. "Hey Race!"

Race was making his way over to me from the bridge, sauntering over like he was king with his hat on his head and a cigar planted between his lips.

"What brings ya ta dese pa'ts?" I asked him once he reached me after we spit shook.

"Nuttin' much. Jus' seenin' if youse an' sum a' yoah boys'd like ta come ovah foah some pokah tanight." Race asked, chewing on his cigar.

I mulled it over. But wasn't I choosing my new second in command tonight? Hmm, well that could wait... besides, a game of poker sounded good right about now.

"Hmm, maybe. I'se'll see if any a' me boys wanna go ovah." I told him, handing a paper to an old man before turning back to Race.

"Dat's great. An' we'se gots some goils comin' ovah, includin' da most beautifol goil in da whole woild. Her names Mariabella." Race took his cigar out of his mouth, his eyebrows shooting up.

I shook my head, smirking with a small chuckle coming out of my lips.

"I'se'll see ya tanight Spot." Race said before he made his way back over to the bridge.

Shaking my head in silent laughter, I continued to sell my papers.

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It was hours later, and I had just sold my last evening paper to an interesting looking man before I began my way toward the ware house. Not only did I have to walk all the way there, but I'd have to turn around and walk back this way to get to Manhattan. There was my exercise for the week. The door banged open as I made my way into our humble little home; it wasn't much, but it was the best we could do. All the boys hanging around the lobby looked up once I had made my entrance.

"Who's up foah a game ah pokah in Hattan, bois?" I asked, looking around my boys.

Almost immediately, Steele, Muse, Thunder, Chance, Ace and Boxer stood up. They were the usual's for poker, and never let down a game to beat the Manhattaners.

So I turned around and began my way toward Manhattan, back the way I had just come.

My boys and I weren't very... vocal with each other. We didn't talk a whole lot. I mean sure we'd argue, we'd joke, but we never really... spoke, if you get my drift. So this silent walk to Jack's place wasn't much of a surprise. Chance did bring up that I still had to choose a second -dammit, I forgot- so I just shrugged and mumbled that I'd do it tomorrow night.

My boys represented Brooklyn very well; each of their personalities and backgrounds were perfect. No... I take that back. Their backgrounds told me they'd be able to survive. That's what I did before I allowed a new boy in Brooklyn. I had to know they wouldn't be some softy who'd give up when it started getting hard. I sent all of those boys to Manhattan. Skittery, Itey and even Racetrack had come to Brooklyn first, asking to be a newsie. Of course... they didn't check out with me, so I sent them to Jack, who couldn't turn them down.

But like I was saying, my boys were good. Steele, originally Mathew Prate, was a very tall, skinny boy who had cold, metallic eyes and pitch black hair. He didn't have any living relatives, after his parents died and his aunt brought him here from California. He'd been in Brooklyn since he was ten, now fifteen, and turned out to be a very successful newsie.

Muse, or Olly Fait, was a tiny kid, kind of like Pick Pocket, with curly brown hair and pale green eyes. The kid was put in the system when he was real small, his parents having gotten murdered and all, and moved around the states being adopted, then put back by many different families before he found himself part of Brooklyn.

Thunder, otherwise known as Rupart Serth, was one of the only kids in Brooklyn who also had a brother as a newsie. Thunder was the older, by a year, and had muddy brown hair, blue eyes and was a bit round. He was one of my best fighters, thanks to being left on the streets at such a young age with his brother.

Chance, Seth Othars, was an exception to joining Brooklyn. He'd been the son of a very rich family, but the kid wanted some adventure in his life, and was tired of being smothered by the luxuries of his home, so he ran way and, surprisingly enough, joined the Brooklyn newsies. He kind of looked like one of those snooty kids, what with his blonde hair and beady black eyes... but he fought hard.

Ace, or Vick Gerladn, was the only black guy in the Brooklyn newsies; it was a title he was pretty proud about. So he had the dark skin, hair and eyes, like every African American. Ace was a servant at the Othars household, and when Chance decided to leave, Ace wouldn't leave his side.

Last, but not least, was Boxer, who was Crett Jaimes. Boxer was right up there with Thunder in the fighting department, and just looking at his explain why. The guy was huge. And what he had in muscle, he lacked in smarts. He wasn't the brightest bulb in the sack, but sometimes comes up with magically brilliant ideas. He keeps his light brown hair cut short, and has leafy green eyes.

"'Bout time, Conlon!" Race chuckled around his cigar, giving me a big grin as my boys and I entered the Manhattan Newsies Lodge. Jack, Boots, Mush, David and Blink also sat around a breaking table with Race, already dealing cards. Behind them were a few girls dressed up with who knows how much make up and dresses. They looked a bit like dolls, which made them all the more appealing. Hey, what could I say? Can't help but like pretty dames.

Once my boys and I sat around the table with the Manhatteners, the four girls came around us, flirting and sitting in our laps. A brunette with long legs sat right on the Mouths lap, and the poor guy just started to drool like a poor sick puppy. A girl with long, dark curls sauntered up to Racetrack (this was probably his new girl, Mariabella, that he'd told me about) and whispered something in his ear. Racetrack's eyes bulged momentarily before he started to chuckle and wrap his arm around her waist. I shook my head at them, my eyes rolling before I looked back down at the cards that had been given to me. Before I had time to sweep my eyes over second card in my hand, a tiny hand began to run itself through my greasy hair. Turning my head around with an eyebrow cocked, I looked up into the eyes of a very petite girl. She had big blue eyes that looked very seductive and curly blond locks that trailed around her shoulders. I felt my heart give a slight tug as I looked away, my eyebrows falling back into their places. She was too pretty. I know that was odd, hearing it from me; one of the biggest womanizers in all of New York. But ever since a few months before the strike, I hadn't touched a single girl. I didn't find one girl that interested me as much as _her_.

She was normal. She was somewhat pretty. She was plain. Her looks definitely didn't scream "look at me I'm drop dead gorgeous". But it was her... personality that hooked me. Most people say that a girl who plays hard to get is the best catch to have. Believe me, she played _very _hard to get. The damn girl didn't want to be my girlfriend. Now that was a big swipe for my ego. And so... I kept after her. And you know what? I fell in love. I never did expect myself to fall for such a girl, but she grew on me. So what did we do? No, I didn't try'n bed her or anything; no, I knew better and for some reason I didn't seem all that sad about it. Instead, only a few days after she admitted she had feelings for me, I asked her to marry me. Of course the girl practically had a heart attack, but I couldn't exactly blame her. So she went on about how we had to plan and send out invitations, but I told her to shut up and pulled her to the nearest church. So there and then I married Hollis Lauren Darken, known as Lonely at the time.

I closed my eyes hard as my chest tightened and my breathing became scarce. Quickly I batted the girls hand away from my hair, mumbling about her getting away from me. Giving me a death glare, the blond walked off to Jack instead.

We played poker well into the night, all of us loosing and earning money in the blink of an eye. The company of the pretty girls began to become unbearable; all of them, including Mariabella (much to Racetrack's anger), began to flirt around with me; sitting in my lap and playing with my shoulders. I tried to ignore them as well as I could, but it soon became impossible to focus on anything else. I began to get fed up.

Pushing the chair back angrily, I stood up, throwing my cards down and pocketing whatever money I currently had.

Everyone around the table looked up at me in surprise. I could see it in all of their eyes; they were confused as to why I wasn't messing around with the girls and they were confused as to why I wasn't acing like Spot. My boys knew I had changed since... that day... but they were still worried about me.

"How can 'ny of youse do this?" I snarled at them, slamming my fist down against the old wooden table, "How can you guys jus' go on livin' like she nevah was 'ere. Like she nevah hugged you ohr cawled ya name?"

I could see everyone's face drop, everyone's pulse suddenly freeze and everyone's eyes gloss over (all except Dave, of course. She was long gone by the time he showed up). Hollis had been apart of everyone of their lives, and it's like she had never existed.

"It's like youse all fo'gotten 'Ollis..." I choked on her name.

"We ain't forgotten 'er, Spot." Jack said, standing up slowly as he looked me in the eye, "We'se just... movin' on."

I stared at him with my stormy eyes, my eyebrows coming down as I started to get angry. I could feel my breathing become ragged as my fists clenched.

"You, a pe'son who loved 'er, would jus' move on like dat? Youse didn't love 'er if you'se all awr movin' on. None of you'se loved 'er like I did."

And with that, I left the room. There was one place where I knew where I couldn't be bothered by anyone... so I went there. I didn't have to go far once on the step of the newsboys lodge. Turning right and then heading down an alley, I began my way up the fire escape. Going by the bedroom window I was absolutely silent. By the time I reached the roof, I could feel my eyes dampen. No, I never wanted to cry because I was sad; you know what, usually I didn't, but ever since that night... _DO YOU KNOW WHO SHE IS_... ever since she left... _DO YOU KNOW WHO YOU KILLED_... ever since she died... _WHAT HAVE YOU DONE._

Sitting down on the edge of the roof, I stared up at the stars as tears rained freely down my cheeks. Are you up there, Hollis? Are you watching me now? Am I ever going to see you again?

Moving away from the edge, I laid down on my back, staring up as I suddenly became sleepy. I tried to remember the last words I heard from her as my eyes began shut as if rocks were pulling them down.

_Don't worry... I'll be back. You'll see._

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_**Wow... That was interesting. Sorry for the switch-a-roo. He's dying a completely different way too! Next chapter is NOT in Spot's view like it has been before, but were jumping straight to MINE! (Delia's).**

**So yup!**

**And since I've taken forever to update, I typed out an ultra long chapter for you guys! **

**Love you guys forever!**

**~Scree  
**


	3. Yup I'm Crazy

**One Hundred and Ten Years Apart**

**Chapter Three;; Yup I'm Crazy  
**

**Thursday, July 1st, 2009**

Ah sleep. Sleep was a good thing in my world. It meant no worries. It meant no problems, no having to go here or there, no long boring days and no dumb people intent on ruining your day. Sleep was a world you could make your own. You could dream the sweetest of dreams; anything you wanted! You could get the guy you wanted, go anywhere you wanted, be anyone you-

"Ian! Get up! I told you we had to leave early!"

Sleep never lasted long enough...

I let out a growl, opening one of my eyes to see my bedroom light flicker on. Letting out a sigh, I sat up reluctantly, feeling the green afghan pool around my waist. Unlike a lot of teenagers, I didn't argue back often. Well, there were a lot of things about me that screamed strange teenager, and my room was one of them. The carpet was a faded golden brown color with a single bluish stain in the middle of the room (left of course by five year old me who had something squishy and stain like). My walls were a faded white/cream and I had ugly brownish gold curtains that were always drawn. There were two tall bookshelves again the window wall and the wall next to it that were filled with books and trinkets. Also against the window wall was a desk with a TV screen; the TV was hooked up to a DVD player as well as a computer hard drive, thanks to my dad. The DVD player sat upon a white dresser that was piled with a few books and a ton of DVDs. The dresser touched another wall; one what was filled with pictures of cats and lions and even a bunny or two that were hand drawn by me. On that same wall was a closet that had three creamy doors. Against the wall across from the large window, TV and one of the book cases was a large, black metal bunk bed. The bottom bed had a leopard patterned sheet that was golden with a ring of leaves here and there. It wasn't all girly (hell no), but it was more African themed, which I liked. The bottom bunk had four pillows; two smaller brown ones that rested on the edge of the bed to keep me from falling off (I'm a very violent sleeper) and two bigger pillows that had a lion, lioness, jaguar and tiger. There was also a big brown dog that rested on the bed against wall (violent sleeper, remember? I've hit that wall many a time with my head, knees, etc...). Like I've said before, I wasn't an average teenager. I didn't sleep under the covers. No, it wasn't because I'd get hot, it's because... I liked it? I don't really know why. Instead I had two feather afghans. One usually rested against the bottom of the bed while I kept the other over me. Another strange characteristic of my bedroom? It was a tropical rain forest. No fans were allowed in my bedroom, the window was always locked and the vents had pillows thrown over them when the air was turned on. Yup. I was weird.

The bunk above me had a regular green blanket with a faded white pillow. Under the covers slept a somewhat normal person. Somewhat. It was my twin brother, Ian, who was _supposed _to be getting up to go to work with my mom because he had a doctors appointment for his scoliosis (yup, we both shared mild scoliosis even though his was slightly worse). Letting out a yawn, I got up off my bed and stretched. I wore my interesting mix-match pj's: soft blue sweat pants, a pink, long sleeved button up with yellow smiley faces and green stripped socks. What could I say? I just wore them to bed; I didn't have to be beautiful to sleep.

Turning back around, I put my feet on my bed and held on to the edge of the top bunk looking into the silent face of my brother. He didn't snore, lucky for me, but he did breathe pretty deeply, like myself, and at the moment he was doing this; taking a deep breath in and then letting it back out. Silently, I brought my right hand up to his face and pushed his nose up so he looked like a pig.

"Wakey, wakey Iaaaaaaaaaan!" I yelled in his ear as he tried to bat my hand away.

"Why?" He mumbled into his pillow before he turned over onto his side, facing the wall away from me.

Rolling my glaucous blue eyes, I put my hands on the top metal bar and hefted myself up. I brought my foot up to the lowest bar before I fell upon Ian.

He let out a grunt, his matching blue eyes glaring up at me, his breath coming out in raspy little breaths.

"I. Hate. You..." He gasped, trying to push me off.

I grinned widely at him, poking his nose with my index finger.

"Suuuure ya do, Ian." I chuckled before I bit his shoulder. What? It was a friendly little bite, it's not that weird...

I got to the edge of the bunk bed as it screeched and yelled under my weight. I jumped off the top bunk and landing on my knee and foot. Cracking my neck, I heard I loud meow at my side. Looking down, I found myself staring down at my cat, Shadow. The petite black cat stared up at me, her golden green eyes wide. If it hadn't been for the fluffy fur all over her body, and my floor, she'd probably be confused with a kitten even though she was probably just as old as me (13 or 14 at the most). Shadow was all black with the exception of a tiny white dot of fur on her chest. She was a weird one alright; she was the sweetest thing a few years ago, and then we got two small mutt dogs and she just got so pissed off, she ran away. She was gone for about half a year before we ever saw her again, but it was a mystery as to where she had gone. She was well fed and groomed, but she came back with a very sour personality. But now she had mellowed out and allowed a few people to touch her.

"How you doing, Shadow?" I asked, scratching her a couple times under her chin. Almost immediately, she started to purr deep within her throat. Still petting her, I looked up to see Ian climb down the real ladder (nearest the door) and walk to the closet. Yes, even though we were both teenagers and we were of the opposite sex, we shared everything; a closet, a room, a bed... heck, I even stole his basketball shorts for my sports some times. What could I say? All the girls shorts were short shorts or spandex, and believe me, you didn't want to see me in spandex.

By the time I had finished giving Shadow a good pet, Ian was fishing some of his clothing out of his side of the closest (the left) so I went out of the room. (Well we did have boundaries. I wasn't going to watch him change!)

I skipped across she small hall just outside our bedroom door to the bathroom Ian and I shared. By the time I came back and knocked on the door, Ian imerged in basketball shorts, a T-shirt with Brian from Family Guy saying "Sarcasm is just another free service I offer" and black low top All Stars.

His shortish hair was a mess, the brown streaked blond locks flying everywhere.

He yawned as I walked by, walking toward the bathroom to finish getting ready.

Finding nothing better to do in my room, I plopped down onto my gray swivel chair seated at the computer/TV and turned the monitor on. I checked the few things I had; e-mail, Myspace, Facebook, MSN... nothing interesting.

A few moments later my mom and Ian called a goodbye before the garage opened and they left. All I had to do now was wait. Danielle, my best friend, was coming over this morning at about "nine-ish" she told me. It was almost ten. But then again, Danielle hated mornings, and didn't get up very easily.

So I doodled around on "Paint" for a little while, awaiting Danielle.

It wasn't long before I heard the back door that was in the dining room down the hall open and then close loudly.

"Deeeedaaaaa." Danielle sang as she skipped down hall way and kicked open my door with her foot.

Swiveling around in my seat I saw her enter the room.

Danielle was just about as tall as me, even though she was my complete polar opposite. Instead on tan skin, long and straight blond hair and lightish blue eyes like me, she had snow white skin, curly strawberry blond hair and gray blue eyes. Danielle smiled widely at me, her tiny white teeth glistening. In her hand was a big brown back (pretty beat up from all the abuse it got from going back and forth from her parents homes) and on her back was a backpack that most likely held her computer and books. At the moment she wore her blue skinny jeans, Cullen T-shirt and checkered slip ons.

Throwing her stuff at the foot of the bunk bed by the latter, Danielle waved.

"Hey." I mummbled, stretching my arms, "What's up?"

"Oh not much." Danielle stated, coming to stand in front of me. A few seconds later, her eyebrows knitted together.

"Hey... did you know there's a strange guy laying on your roof?" She asked me in the most innocent voice she had.

My eyebrows shot up. Wow her imagination can fly.

I chuckled once before turning back around.

"Uh huh, sure. Very funny."

"But I'm telling the thruth! I was walking around the house, going the long way because I forgot the pass word for the garage and I didn't want to ring the bell cause I didn't want to wake you or Ian up- where is he anyway? Didn't you say he was-"

"Focus, Danielle." I interrupted, becoming a bit annoyed with her.

"Oh right... anyway, I came around the long way and right above the back door on the roof this guy was just laying there. He was kind of cute you know. Anyway, I yelled at him, but he didn't hear me, so I came in here." She gave me a wide smile at the end as if to emphasize how stupid she was acting.

She wasn't usually like this... today just must not be a good day...

"You left a strange guy... on my roof..." I said slowly, taking in the words she was throwing at me.

"Uh huh..." She said back, almost innocently.

Rolling my eyes, I stood up, making my way past Danielle and to the door. Our house wasn't very big, really; near the front door we had a semi-large living room with a wooden TV set that had a large TV sitting in it. We had a green carpet (don't ask, believe me) through out the living room, but the rest of the house, besides the bedrooms, was made out of cork squares. The living room had three walls; the wall closest to the front of the house was wooden, the wall at the side of the house was white and the last wall was entirely made of large windows, plus a door, that led out to the backyard. The open space that should have been a wall had a wooden closet. On the other side of the closet (it opened out that way), was a large white door that led out to the front. Just outside of the small hallway from the front door was the dining room. The back wall had windows, although not as big as the living room, also facing the backyard, with a brick wall underneath. There was a barbecue built in to the wall next to the windows, and on the other side of that at an angle was the back door. Next to the back door was a litter box plus the cat food. And next to the litter box was the washer and dryer. Across from the windows facing the back yard was the kitchen, which couldn't really be called a kitchen at all. It was tiny with the dishwasher, sink, fridge/freezer, stove... you know, normal kitchen just small and.. fun sized? Anyway, over by dryer and washer, both of which rested by the back door, mind you, was the hall way to the back. Right before the hallway was a door that led out to the furnace and then the garage that usually held my dad's silver Toyota truck and my moms pixie white RAV 4. Once you started walking down the medium sized hall way, you first came by some cabinets on the right. Then there were two door on both the right and the left. On the right was the bathroom Ian and I shared, and then on the left was my dads room. His small room had cloud wall paper (after all, that room had been mine and Ian's nursery first), his computers, plus his futon bed. A few feet down the hall from my dads room, still on the left because there were some large closets on the right that housed all my moms old clothing, was our room, which I have already mentioned. And then at the end of the hall was my moms bedroom with the bathroom to the right once you entered the room. The carpet had been ripped out (the old green carpet {why did the people before us love green carpet} had started to get worn through, so mom became crazy), and in the room was her queen bed, TV and computer. (My parents didn't sleep in the same room because the both of them snore which irritates each other. So what was the plan? Give surround sound snoring to the kids!)

Walking a bit fast down the hall, still clad in my odd pj's, I slipped my flip flops on that I had left by the washer and opened the door. Once the first door was open, my two dogs, Sugar and Licorice, started jumping at the screen door. Both were little mutts without defined breeds, although Sugar sort of had a Yorkie face and Licorice was long and slim with a long snout like a Dachshund. While Sugar was a light creamy curly haired small dog with butterscotch ears, Licorice was a dark brown and black with little silver curls on her lower back, bottom, tail and back legs (misfit dogs or what?). Opening the screen door, I allowed the dogs to come in. Immediately, they ran in, their claws making scratching noises against the cork. They rounded the corner and jumped into their little cage that sat in front of the unused barbecue. I exited through the door, Danielle right on my heals. I walked forward onto the grass and turned around, looking up at the brown roof. True to her word, there was a boy laying up there, looking calm as if he were asleep. From what I could tell, he wore turn of the century clothing with a blue button up shirt, brown trousers, red suspenders and a gray newsies hat. In his pocket there seemed to be a sling shot and through his belt loop was a gold tipped cane.

I scratched my head as Danielle came to my side, looking at the boy with me.

"How are we going to get him off the roof?" Danielle asked me.

"Uhm... I could climb the tree?" I suggested.

If you exited the back door, to the left was an herb garden against the wall with a single turtle in it (rightfully named Ms. Turtel). The herb garden was less than a foot above the concrete with two bricks high around it and a little white fence to keep her in. Around the herb garden away from the wall was the concrete path that led to the back back yard and the storage room. (The storage room is attached to the house, but there weren't any door besides the one outside. If there _was_ a door, it would lead right into moms room.) Just on the other side of the storage room was a small tree that the cats often used to get up on the roof. The roof slanted down on this part of the house, coming just a few feet above my head (five and a half to six feet tops).

Without waiting for Danielle's answer, I walked to the small tree. It was an old tree (it was as old as me if not older), but didn't reach great heights. I started climbing the tree with my flip flops on (probably not a smart move on my part). Grunting, I pulled myself up onto the roof from the tree and sat there with my legs hanging over the edge as twigs and leaves slapped at my face. I started pulling away from the edge of the roof, my pants getting stuck on the roof tiles as I dragged my way up the slight slope. Once a few feet from the edge of the roof, I stood up, careful not to fall over. Then, as fast as I dared to go, I made my way to the strange boy lying on my roof. During the duration of the short walk over there, a few questions light bulbed in my brain. What was I going to tell mom and dad? "Oh hey mom, I found this strange guy on my roof. Can we keep him?" I chuckled as I got to my knees at the boys side.

Firstly, I checked the boys pulse to make sure he was alive. (Well, yeah; it'd be a strange place to dump a dead body... but you never know.) Much to my relief, his heart was beating. Setting his hand back down, I decided to stop being gentle. Bringing my right hand up to his cheeck, I poked it a bit hard.

"Hello in there." I mumbled, continuing to poke his cheek, "Why're you on my roof?"

For a couple of moments, nothing happened as I continued to poke the strange guys cheek. Then, after about my twenty seventh poke, his left hand shot up from where it had been laying as his side and grabbed my wrist. The motion had been so sudden, that I fell backwards onto my butt, thankful no where near the edge of the roof.

"Stop. Touchin'. Me." The boy growled, his eyes still closed before he released my wrist in a jerky way to lay his arm back down at his side.

"Hey!" I yelled, coming back to my knees, "Get off my roof, jerk!"

Nothing happened and I suddenly wondered if he was some mental patient and I'd done something wrong.

So I quickly leaned over him, looking carefully down as his face. He had smooth features; Normal sized, angry looking eyebrows, rounded cheeks, pouty lips, slightly upturned nose... Hey, in some persons book, he might even be considered cute.

"Would you please just wake up?" I growled, my eyebrows knitting together.

Slowly, yet surely, the guy opened his eyes. Once his eyelids had slid up and his eyes were visible, I felt a very painful shock of what seemed to be electricity go through my spine. In shock, I sat up completely, looking down at the boy. Screams suddenly rang in my ears. I could make out two high pitched screams; girls perhaps? Plus four other guys yelling? And somebody sobbing in the backround... and lastly another guy yelling that somebody was wrong.

As quickly as they had appeared, the voices and screams disappeared, and I was back in my world, my breath stuck in my chest.

The guy in front of my had sat up now, staring at me with wide eyes. But they were... scary looking. Sad looking as well. They were metallic blue that seemed to read me like an open book.

"Hollis?" He asked, his voice portraying signs of a New York accent.

"What?" I mumbled, looking at him with a confused and painful look on my face. My ears were still ringing from the pitches of the screams. Something about his boy... was off. Something about him... brought back something painful.

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**Yay, another chapter down! And this one was... really long. Sorry about that D: Describing my house is crazy hard... as you might tell.**

**Anyway, I hope you guys liked it!**

**Review, my lovlies! Review!**

**~Scree**

**(Ah yes... look up "Hello Brooklyn" by All Time Low. It practically screams Spot Conlon!)**


	4. About as Funny as a Heart Attack

**One Hundred and Ten Years Apart**

**Chapter Three;; About as Funny as a Heart Attack**

**Thursday, July 1st, 2009**

**(Spot's POV)**

Dreaming wasn't an often luxury (or curse. Depends who you are) that I was given. I slept and then I woke up. But falling asleep atop the Hattan Newsboys Lodging House must have sparked something in my mind. I was being pulled and stuffed and cramped into who knows how many positions and crevices. The word "uncomfortable" didn't even describe it in the slightest. My lungs were closed and opened, squeezed and yanked open. My blood flow would stop to one area, and that limb or finger would fall asleep, but I could do nothing as the prickling/tingling sensation radiated through out my body. This, by far, was the strangest thing that had ever happened to me. It seemed to carry on for hours; days even! But it could have been in the time span of only a couple of seconds.

Once it stopped, though, I was relieved. Then for a few moments, nothing happened. In those small moments, I was hung between falling into a deep sleep and waking up suddenly... But my body did neither. I just floated between planes as if I was unconcious. Then, before I knew it, a jab reached my cheek. And although I wanted to retaliate and hit whoever it was back, my body just wouldn't allow it.

The jabbing continued, but with it came a voice.

"Hello in there." I heard the voice above. It was comforting and oddly familiar sounding, "What're you doing on my roof?"

Words... I tried to comprehend them. My brain was a slurry of curse words and painful memories. Nothing was making sense at the moment. Who knows? If I opened my eyes right now, I might be somewhere in the future!

The jabbing continued, and I was starting to get annoyed, so with all my energy concentrated in my arm closest to my assailant and when I felt strong enough, I grabbed to where I guessed the girls' arm would be. Lucky for me, my target was right where I assumed it would be.

As if I had shocked her (oh yes, it was definitely a she; unless these whimpy wrists belonged to a sad excuse for a boy), she fell back from the sitting position she had been in. I resisted the urge to smirk in triumph. So instead, I spoke.

"Stop. Touchin'. Me." I growled before releasing the girls arm. All I wanted was to rest, if just a few moments more. My dream had left me breathless and flattened in my own little world.

"Hey!" I heard the girl yell, sitting back into her original position at my side, "Get off me roof, jerk!"

There that word was again; roof. Yes, I had fallen alseep on the Manhattan Newsboys Lodging House... what of it? There weren't any newsie girls in Hattan. At least not any more...

"Would you please just wake up?" The vibrations of the girls growl in my ears suddenly lit a nerv in my brain, which went to the others as my brain came out of its' small hibernation. I knew that voice. I knew it all too well. But could that possibly mean..? Had I..?

Finally being allowed to use my body, I slowly slid my eyes open to stare up into a face that had been lost to me over a year ago. It was her; Hollis. The face above me was an exact replica: same eyes, same hair color (different hair cut, though, I might add), same nose, same lips, same confused looked.

Yes, the girl above me suddenly held a shocked and pained look, as if she had just stuck her hand in a lantern. Was she really that shocked to see me?

As my eyes widened at suddenly seeing a ghost, I sat up to become level with the girl in front of me.

"Hollis?" I asked, my voice slightly choked.

After only a moments hesiation, the girl answered back.

"What?"

I felt my face fall. She didn't recognize me; not a bit. But I could have sworn... an exact copy of Hollis sat right in front of me, and the girl didn't even know who I was?

Suddenly, a more important thought dawned on me: Where exactly was I? The roof beneath me felt different, and was slanted instead of flat. I was on a short building that was surrounded by other small houses and trees. What was this?

Looking into the yard below, I almost fell out of my skin, because yet again, I was seeing another ghost. Only this time it was Spice; Hollis' best friend and Mush's girl.

Quickly, I looked back to Hollis who still sat staring at me in a confused manner.

"What's goin' on, Hollis? Where are we'se?" I asked her, motioning to my surroundings.

Hollis shook her head, as if clearing a daze she had been in. I could see a serious glimmer appear in her eye.

"Well for one, we're in Fresno, California, and second... who's the Hollis person you keep talking about? My name's Delia. Delia Teichman." She told me, her eyebrow coming up in a little quirk. It was cute... exactly what Hollis would do.

Suddenly, realization ignited and I mentally kicked myself in the gut.

"I gets it. I'm dreamin'." I sighed, standing shakily to my feet.

"Dreaming?" Hollis- er... Delia asked, standing as well, "What're you talking about?"

I shook my head sadly to myself, walking toward the edge of the roof.

"Dreams." I mumbled over my shoulder, raising an eyebrow to stare at her, "None a dis' is real. You'se-" Here I pointed to her "A'n't real. Yoah a pigment a my imagination."

"Do you mean 'figment'?" She corrected me, chuckling in a nervous way.

I smirked at this as old memories came racing back of that cute girl who always knew how to correct me.

"You'se know... fa' a dream, ya really do act loik Hollis." I mumbled, turning back around to stare down at the ground below me.

"Hey! What the hell do you think you're doing?" I heard Delia scream.

Before I even had time to put a toe over the edge, I was yanked back by the coller of my throat. I let out a gasping sound as my air way was cut off by the pressure. Before I knew it, I was back on the part of roof I had been laying on, and Delia was standing over by the edge, glaring down at me.

"Go take your suicide attempts somewhere else! If you die, I have to clean up the blood!" She spat, both of her eyebrows resting on her brow line.

Although amused by her sudden outburst, I was still angered by the fact that she wouldn't allow me to do as I please. So without another moment going by, I whipped my cane out from my belt loop (easier said then done while you're in a sitting position). The sudden movment must have startled her, because she took a step back off the roof.

For a brief moment, Delia was suspended there, her arms twirling in circles as she tried to regain her balance.

Spice, who had been silent up until now, screamed, "Delia!"

As quickly as I had fallen, I was up and grabbing one of Delia's arms to yank her back to solid roof.

I could feel her pulse pound under my touch as her heart rate started to calm down from her momentary scare.

Pulling her wrist away from my grasp, Delia gave me a dark glare.

"Consider ourselves even." She growled, looking down from me to Spice.

Another question started to squeeze its' self into my thoughts. It had been a question I should have asked from the start, really.

"Wut year is it?"

Delia looking up curiously from where she rubbed her wrist. Maybe I had grabbed her a bit too hard.

"What are you saying?" She asked, her blue eyes peircing my stormy ones.

"I'm sayin' wut I'm sayin'!" I argued, becoming fed up with the blonde, "Wut year is it?"

Delia stared at me for a moment, her eyes looking me over in confusion and wonder.

"Two thousand nine..." She mumbled, "Why? What year are you from?"

I let out the breath I had been holding in, shaking my head to myself as I sat back down on the roof.

"Eighteen ninty nine..."

* * *

Another Chappie for all my lovelies!

Big thanks to everyone who's reviewed so far! Heck, I'll list 'em all:

xXEmiShaeXx, Christina Conlon, Spot'sGalFrom1899, Firefly Conlon, Royal shadow1, . and Skitts Girl!

Hmm... I've been seeing a bunch of _ Conlon names around. I had thought about making my name Misfit Conlon or Lonely Conlon... but I'm thinking I'll just stick to Scree because those names seem so popular... Besides... my Newsie Names sound really weird with "Conlon" at the end XD

Anyway.. until next time, my friends!

~Scree


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